more.
“Never mind. We’ll figure this out eventually.” Jason pointed to the TV. “You want me to turn it on?”
Ben’s eyes lit up, and he nodded with the same enthusiasm a kid might show if asked whether he wanted to spend the day at Disneyland.
Jason shook his head, laughing. All this worry about a ghost, and all the ghost wanted to do was watch TV.
“Okay.” He picked up the remote and brought the television to life. “What do you want to watch?”
He pulled up the on-screen guide, and Ben’s eyes went wide. Jason began scrolling through the lists, watching in amusement as Ben traced his translucent finger down the screen, reading the options. But by the sixth page of choices, his smile had turned into a scowl.
“You don’t know any of these shows?”
Ben shook his head.
“What show did you have in mind? I can probably find it On Demand or something.”
Ben tilted his head, thinking. Finally, he smiled. He spread his hands in a wide sweeping gesture, then pointed to himself, then held a hand down at knee height.
“Okay. I haven’t played charades in a while, but I can do this. How many words?”
Three fingers.
“All right. Do it again.”
Ben did, and Jason began to guess. The first word was easy. The second took only two tries. The third . . .
“All My . . . All My Short People? All My Small Things? All My . . . Little . . . Little People? Kids? Children?”
Ben bounced, clapping his hands.
“Oh my God, you’re kidding! All My Children ?”
Ben nodded.
“I don’t even know if it’s still on. A lot of the soaps got cancelled a few years ago.” Ben slumped, and Jason sympathized. It’d happened right at the time when he’d started to consider taking a role on one. “Don’t worry. We have about a hundred and fifty channels to choose from. We’ll find something.”
There were more soaps left on air than he’d realized. Ben settled on the opposite end of the couch—although this time, he floated about half an inch above it, instead of sinking into it—and Jason flipped to The Young and the Restless .
His stomach rumbled, and he spent a moment debating the appropriateness of offering Ben some lunch. Common courtesy dictated that he shouldn’t eat in front of his guest. Then again, Ben couldn’t even pick up the television remote. How exactly would he go about eating a ham sandwich?
“Will you be okay here while I go shower and grab something to eat? I’ll leave the TV on.”
Ben hesitated, clearly embarrassed. He asked a question, pointing to the couch to help make himself clear. You’re coming back?
“I promise.”
Ben smiled, nodding. I’ll be fine.
“Do you need anything?” Jason asked. He knew it was a silly question—what exactly could he possibly bring Ben?—but he felt he had to ask. “Food or something to drink or . . .”
The look Ben gave him was enough to silence him. Not exactly derision, but something that bordered on exasperation and yet with a hint of sadness. Ben shook his head no.
“Okay. Well, I won’t be long.”
And he wasn’t. He made it back to the couch as The Young and the Restless was ending. After that, Ben watched General Hospital , and then Days of Our Lives . And while Ben watched TV, Jason watched Ben.
He was so animated, every feeling he had easily read upon his young face. He talked a lot, sometimes seemingly at characters on the television, sometimes to Jason, although he was usually too excited for Jason to lip-read more than a word or two. A few times, Jason suspected Ben was trying to explain which characters he remembered, or some piece of backstory. He grew somber during the dramatic sequences, his image sometimes flickering fitfully, and he fidgeted nervously through the intimate scenes, like a little kid with his parents in the room. He loved the commercials too, although the many pharmaceutical ads left him frowning, and one promising to treat erectile dysfunction flustered him so much he winked right out of
“Never mind. We’ll figure this out eventually.” Jason pointed to the TV. “You want me to turn it on?”
Ben’s eyes lit up, and he nodded with the same enthusiasm a kid might show if asked whether he wanted to spend the day at Disneyland.
Jason shook his head, laughing. All this worry about a ghost, and all the ghost wanted to do was watch TV.
“Okay.” He picked up the remote and brought the television to life. “What do you want to watch?”
He pulled up the on-screen guide, and Ben’s eyes went wide. Jason began scrolling through the lists, watching in amusement as Ben traced his translucent finger down the screen, reading the options. But by the sixth page of choices, his smile had turned into a scowl.
“You don’t know any of these shows?”
Ben shook his head.
“What show did you have in mind? I can probably find it On Demand or something.”
Ben tilted his head, thinking. Finally, he smiled. He spread his hands in a wide sweeping gesture, then pointed to himself, then held a hand down at knee height.
“Okay. I haven’t played charades in a while, but I can do this. How many words?”
Three fingers.
“All right. Do it again.”
Ben did, and Jason began to guess. The first word was easy. The second took only two tries. The third . . .
“All My . . . All My Short People? All My Small Things? All My . . . Little . . . Little People? Kids? Children?”
Ben bounced, clapping his hands.
“Oh my God, you’re kidding! All My Children ?”
Ben nodded.
“I don’t even know if it’s still on. A lot of the soaps got cancelled a few years ago.” Ben slumped, and Jason sympathized. It’d happened right at the time when he’d started to consider taking a role on one. “Don’t worry. We have about a hundred and fifty channels to choose from. We’ll find something.”
There were more soaps left on air than he’d realized. Ben settled on the opposite end of the couch—although this time, he floated about half an inch above it, instead of sinking into it—and Jason flipped to The Young and the Restless .
His stomach rumbled, and he spent a moment debating the appropriateness of offering Ben some lunch. Common courtesy dictated that he shouldn’t eat in front of his guest. Then again, Ben couldn’t even pick up the television remote. How exactly would he go about eating a ham sandwich?
“Will you be okay here while I go shower and grab something to eat? I’ll leave the TV on.”
Ben hesitated, clearly embarrassed. He asked a question, pointing to the couch to help make himself clear. You’re coming back?
“I promise.”
Ben smiled, nodding. I’ll be fine.
“Do you need anything?” Jason asked. He knew it was a silly question—what exactly could he possibly bring Ben?—but he felt he had to ask. “Food or something to drink or . . .”
The look Ben gave him was enough to silence him. Not exactly derision, but something that bordered on exasperation and yet with a hint of sadness. Ben shook his head no.
“Okay. Well, I won’t be long.”
And he wasn’t. He made it back to the couch as The Young and the Restless was ending. After that, Ben watched General Hospital , and then Days of Our Lives . And while Ben watched TV, Jason watched Ben.
He was so animated, every feeling he had easily read upon his young face. He talked a lot, sometimes seemingly at characters on the television, sometimes to Jason, although he was usually too excited for Jason to lip-read more than a word or two. A few times, Jason suspected Ben was trying to explain which characters he remembered, or some piece of backstory. He grew somber during the dramatic sequences, his image sometimes flickering fitfully, and he fidgeted nervously through the intimate scenes, like a little kid with his parents in the room. He loved the commercials too, although the many pharmaceutical ads left him frowning, and one promising to treat erectile dysfunction flustered him so much he winked right out of
Similar Books
